


five out of ten

by skaralding



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Begging, Bets & Wagers, Desperation, M/M, Nonnies Made Me Do It, Phone Calls & Telephones, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23646301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skaralding/pseuds/skaralding
Summary: They’d done five phone calls like this, and Harry had bet on ten, and he didn’t want to lose, but. He was dying.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	five out of ten

**Author's Note:**

> Originally [posted on fail_fandomanon](https://fail-fandomanon.dreamwidth.org/377813.html?thread=2213526485#cmt2213526485) in response to the 100 words prompt on riding cock while on the phone to someone else. Exactly what it says on the tin, posted because I'm rounding up various ficlets instead of leaving them lost to the uninterrupted flow of meme.

Harry didn’t know it was possible to feel so filthy. Feeling Victor’s cock bottom out deep inside him was beyond distracting in this state; it stole his breath, made his fingers freeze on the virtual keypad, made stupid tears start in his eyes.

“Are you all right?” There was a smile in Victor’s tone as he shifted beneath Harry’s spread thighs, his hands ghosting up Harry’s slightly sweating back. “Need a break?”

A break would kill him. A break would mean putting down the phone—or not—and having his hips held down as Victor pounded up into him hard, but not hard enough, only just enough to drag him to the edge and leave him there with half-strangled moans clogging up his throat.

Harry knew that, and yet, for a moment, as he felt Victor’s hands stroke down to squeeze his ass, he thought of giving in.

_Won’t help,_ Harry told himself, and forced his fingers to move. _Have to finish the list, or…_ Or Victor would laugh at him, Victor would _win_ , and he couldn’t have that. _I can do this. I can do it._ The call connected. “H-hi, Yolande? It’s Harry.”

“Harry, baby, how’ve you been?” Yolande’s syrupy voice really should have been a turn-off, but instead, it made Harry even harder. When he came out, she’d been the most understanding of his family, up to a certain point; knowing he was doing this, letting someone do this to him while he chatted to her, he could so easily imagine the disappointed way she’d look at him. “…so yeah, I can definitely make it.”

“Great!” Victor was being nice, barely moving, and still, Harry had to fight to sound normal. “We’re going to have a huge spread, so come hungry.”

“I will, sweetheart. I’ve got to run now, work, so…”

“Yeah, fine, have a good day… ugh!” Thank god Yolande always cut off calls when she was in a hurry. “You bastard.”

“Shouldn’t you be thinking about your next call?” Victor said, leaning in, his breath hot against Harry’s chest. “Hmm?”

The whole time he spoke, he was rolling his hips, teasing Harry with quick, shallow thrusts that made him wriggle and pant out loud, desperate for more stimulation. “I’m… I can’t…”

“You can’t?”

They’d done five phone calls like this, and Harry had bet on ten, and he didn’t want to lose, but. He was dying. He needed to come. He needed Victor to put one of those wicked hands on his cock and pull him off so hard he saw stars.

“I…” Harry whispered. “I need a break.”

“Alright,” Victor said, and immediately took action. One moment, Harry was sitting in his lap, thighs spread and aching; in the next, Harry was pinned face down on the couch they’d been using all along, and he could barely breathe from how hard he was getting it. “Good?”

“Nnh—!” Instead of taking what he was given, Harry kept trying to move back into the brutal thrusts. _I’m going to win,_ he thought, as he groaned out loud, as he deliberately tightened his sore, stinging channel around the massive cock filling him up. _He likes me desperate, so that’s what he’ll get._ “P-please…”

Victor was already slowing down, but when he heard that, his hands tightened their grip on Harry’s hips. “Please what?”

“A little more,” Harry sobbed. Surely that had to do it. Surely it had to be enough. “ _Please._ ”

“You liar,” Victor said, his tone amused, breathless. But he hadn’t stopped, so— “I hope you know this counts as my win.”

_No,_ Harry wanted to say, but Victor had sped up, and he was hitting it, hitting just right every time, so the only thing that Harry ended up saying was a bunch of hoarse, mumbled curses, intermixed with the kind of begging that would have made him blush months ago.

Now, though… “Please don’t stop, fuck my hole, fuck me raw, fuck me ’til I can’t walk, I’m your whore, so _please_ , please fill me up…”

Victor rarely said anything when he begged. It only heightened Harry’s desperation, made him louder, made him spread his thighs and rock back into each heavy thrust. “That’s it,” was the only thing Victor said, this time, and by then Harry was already coming, already spraying all over the towel they’d laid down before they began. “Good boy.”

So maybe not the only thing. Victor never lasted for long after Harry had gone limp; something about Harry being utterly at his mercy seemed to invigorate him. Just three or four deep thrusts, and he was shaking on top of Harry, filling him up. “Finally.”

Just from hearing that one, smug word, Harry knew Victor wasn’t going to be charitable about his dubious win. “Fucker,” he couldn’t help but say. “You cheating—”

“Did I cheat?” Victor’s hand slid up Harry’s trembling back. “Hmm?”

Harry blushed. “Your dick is a fucking cheat,” he muttered. Fuck, if he’d only kept to the wordless moans he initially planned on using, he’d be the one gloating right now, he one being uncharitable. “Fucker.”

**Author's Note:**

> Do let me know if you enjoyed it ;D


End file.
